In a name
by PolarisWhatever
Summary: Isn't it absolutely hilarious? Loony Lovegood has finally gone completely bonkers.


In a name

Candleinthebox

Drama/Friendship

Rating: T

Disclaimer: If I did own Harry Potter, I would have other things to do than posting here. Like, swimming in a money-filled pool Scrooge style (don't lie, I know I'm not the only one who has dreamed of it).

Note: Post-war. I should warn you, this is terribly, horrendously tragic and not even subtle. This is probably one of the most personal stories I've ever written, and that's why it kinda sucks. But I had it in my computer and I thought heck, why not post, so there. Again, not beta-read, feel free to critic honestly, I'm fire-proof. And if you have time to waste, think about reviewing, maybe? It never fails to make my day.

I actually love Luna and her eccentricities. But I'm all for tough love, love is pain, and woe is me.

* * *

_What's your name?_

- is the first question that comes to her mind, every time. She is talking today. The words are stitched together like random materials in a patchwork piece, colourful in her particular manner but never fitting together, scattered parts of an incomplete puzzle. Ginny listens with seemingly understanding nods, her heart thumping in her chest with nerve-wracking anxiety, waiting for the moment when this thin layer of ice will break down. When solicited (which, fortunately, is rare), panic rises to her throat and she searches desperately for the right thing to say, the perfect words, or at least, words that will not upset her. If she is lucky, her answer is neglected, the babble resumes, and she crosses her fingers hard behind her back, dreading next time. But it is still an improvement: she is talking.

_What's your name?_

- is the question she cannot ask, of course. You don't understand, she whispers, smiling, always the same smile, serene, peaceful like a painted Madonna or Merlin himself on the path of illumination, you don't understand. No, of course not, Ginny wants to yell, I don't understand a word of what you're saying, because it's bullshit, every word of it, bullshit! But she stays silent, of course. In a nice, happy ending story, she would shake her by the shoulders, tell her to pull herself together, stop it now, the movie's over darling, time to put your coat back on and walk home in the wind like a good girl, and everything would end up alright someway. But here is the smile, and she stays silent.

"I had a really, really, really strange dream you know. I was standing at the end of the world, and I knew that if I bent forward only a little, I would be able to see the other side. But then, there was a good chance I'd fall, and it was scary. But then, I'm curious too. There were wings, you know, beautiful, beautiful wings and everything was blue. I love blue. Don't you?"

_What's your name?_

- always come back to haunt her at a moment or another. Ginny lingers on pleasantries, trying to gain time, trying to make her reveal it herself somehow so she will not make a fatal mistake. She nods and nods and gives a horribly phoney laugh to conceal her nervousness – but it is alright, because no matter how fake her smiles are, she never notices. She discretely looks for hints, on the scrabbles on the nightstand, full of wings, eyes and teeth, on the paper sheets that she always leaves laying around with unfinished letters to people who may or may not exist, on the desperately white walls, on her peaceful face, but it is empty, empty, empty. She will try harder, then.

"The sky is so blue today, it's really pretty. Did I ever tell you that I love blue? It's pure like angel tears in a crystal shoe and sweet like flying boats on a honey pond. I hope the fishes are fine, because they're blue too, and snakes are out. Snakes with big, black fangs who hide with daggers on moonless nights, but the music, the music, where is it, I wonder. Without music, the fishes will die."

_What's your name?_

- is a funny question, really, they have known each other for so long. Look, she cries with elation, look, can't you see them? They're here, all around us, with shining wings and misty feet, they sing blue songs for me and tell me tales so beautiful that I feel like I can't breathe, look, look! Ginny cannot breathe either, but she cannot see anything at all. Because there is nothing to see, nothing excepted that smile she wants to tear in a thousand pieces and her eyes fixed on a world she will never be able to enter. Sometimes she does not even see her, too absorbed in a conversation with some invisible creature, watching the empty air like it is the most fascinating painting in the world. In these moments Ginny can only stand like a forgotten scarecrow in the white room – all this white, white walls, white door, white bed makes her want to throw up, to cry or maybe to grab her wand and put some colour there for a change but all she sees is blue anyways – powerless, scared and frustrated, hands clenched on the ritual chocolate frogs' box she knows she will find untouched on the nightstand next time.

"The snake ate the fish already, there's nothing I can do. But I can still hear the music, so it's fine. Unicorns and crumple-horned snorkacks and thestrals everywhere, singing only for me, for me only, for me. I flew on a thestral once, you know. Are those violets on the table? Mom liked violets."

_What's your name?_

- is the first question that comes to her mind, every time she enters the white room. They should do something, please do something, anything, there must be _something_ you can do for her, Ginny cried to the mediwizards, to her parents, to herself. But she is still smiling and not seeing her, and sometimes she has to stare hard at her reflection in the mirror to convince herself that no, she is not disappearing. And she wishes a thousand times over she could turn back time and come back to the happy moments her memory tells her existed somewhere, somehow. Because before, they were laughing and joking and the Butterbeer caps necklace and the radish earrings were strange, for sure, but funny and she could say teasingly "Oh Luna, you're so weird!" and it did not matter. Then, she should have done something, realized how serious it was really, acted when strange started to sound bad, but she was busy, and she was tired, and she had problems too, you know, and it was not much, do not mind her please, it is all a game.

"That's why she called me Violet. It's a pretty name, don't you think?"

But in the end it does not matter, how much Ginny wants everything to be fine again, because maybe, nothing was fine in the beginning. So she smiles back, watching with disguised horror the pale figure who keeps getting farther and farther away without moving at all. Those in the vase are forget-me-not, she brought them herself a few days ago. But the question has been answered (she might have just made it up, but really, who cares), and she can finally talk, breathe again just a little. Nothing is going to be fine, but it is her role to stand here and smile. So she does.

"Yes, it's a very pretty name. Violet, dear, do you want a chocolate frog?"

_What's your name today?_

Tomorrow, she will have to find out again. Until then, she smiles.

* * *

Being crazy is a funny thing if it's not really true. May you and the ones you love always be healthy in body and mind.


End file.
